


Forgive Me Please (because I want you on your knees)

by captures



Category: One Direction
Genre: Abuse, Dom/sub, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt Harry, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master/Slave, Multi, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Torture, Toys, master!zayn, top/bottom harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1246429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captures/pseuds/captures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Zayn is a strict master who rules with an iron fist and Harry doesn't know how to do anything but be a submissive little slave.  Zayn just wants to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darkened Places

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Dark in My Imagination by Of Verona
> 
> First story on here. Please comment what you think and if you want me to continue. 
> 
> Thank you.

 

They led him through a dimly lit hallway, the walls leaking with water. Dust clouded around them with fury while the boy in their hands began whining. Dirt and grime covered the concert floor, filling in the cracks in the boy’s naked feet. 

 

Two pairs of hands held him up as another slashed a whip across his back from behind, reminding him to stay awake until they reached their destination. Grunts of pain left the boys mouth with every crack across his back.

 

His head hung low, unable to withstand the pain he was going through. He tried to fight them off. He promises, but his struggles were in vain and he gave in soon after. His cheeks were stained with tears and dark blue bruises; his feet with blood from being dragged down the hallway.

 

His legs at given out from the drugs they pumped into his system. He could barely comprehend where and what was happening right now. All he knew was that the situation was less than ideal. His head was pounding and he needed to lay down, which the man walking behind him was preventing him from doing. He wanted to scream, cry out, in protest, but his lips would not open.

 

The young man was quite literally thrown onto his stomach into a small cell, complete with a toilet and sleeping mat. He flipped onto his back with all the strength he had left in his body, forgetting his back was littered with bloody slash marks.

 

His body convulsed with pain as his damaged back came in contact with the concert floor. He tried to flip himself over, but only accomplished looking like a fish out of water. He let out a startling scream before his body gave out on him and his eyes fluttered closed.

 

-

 

When the boy came to he was chained to a wall. Not just his ankle, but his enter body; his arms shackled above him and his legs spread apart and held in place by shiny new cuffs. His vision cut off by a black, silk cloth. A gag occupied his mouth, stopping him from screaming out for help. He began to struggle. His back still ached from last night’s torture and his spread eagle pose was doing nothing to make him comfortable.

 

The drugs they had given him did nothing to his memory. In fact, every event from last night would be forever imbedded in his brain. He was starting to wish the drugs they pumped in him would have made him forget his capturing.

 

He jerked in his chains, praying that somehow they would release him from their tight hold. After several minutes of failed attempts and bloodied wrists, he sunk back on himself and hung his head in defeat. At the moment he was done fighting, knowing he would need his energy for later if he could even think of escaping.

 

Several minutes later he heard a loud bang as a metal door swung open. His head whipped to the side in an attempt to find the source of the noise. The only thing he was greeted with was darkness and the sound of approaching footsteps, which sent him into a state of hysteria. He flailed around in his chains, muffled protests escaping from around the gag stuffed in his mouth.

 

"You need to stop this instant or I’m going to have to find another way to calm you."

 

The boy ignored the man's comment and threw himself around harder in attempt to free himself and attack the bastard in front of him. His disobedience did not go without punishment and before he even knew what was happening a swift punch was delivered to his stomach sending him flying into the wall.

 

His hooded eyes brimmed with tears, unseen by the man in front of him. The boy never had a strong pain threshold and the punch was enough to have him out of breath. He wanted to curl in on himself in hopes of stopping the pain coursing through him.

 

"Small pain tolerance, I see. We must work on that young man." The boy flinched when a rough hand ran its path down his face to his neck, squeezing lightly, before retreating.

 

"P-p-please let me go!" The boy pleaded through his gag.

 

The man in front of him let out throaty laugh, as if the boy had just told him the funniest joke he had ever heard. His eyes crinkled in the corners, his lips curving upwards into a twisted smile. He laughed at the young boys attempt to persuade him to let him go. The boy had no idea what was coming to him, but he was about to find out.

 

"Now, my dear boy, I’m going to give you one chance to show me that you’re a good little boy, ok?" The man asked continuously at stroking the boys swollen cheek. He nodded in agreement, just wanting the blindfold and gag removed from his face.

 

The boy licked his lips as the gag was removed from inside his mouth and set down. “Please. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone. Please.” The boy pleaded, softly, throat dry.

 

"Hush, little one," the man spoke, beginning to run his hand through the younger boy's hair. The boy felt vomit run up his throat when the man began to stroke his cheek. He was not a little boy or a toy, for that matter, so he did the only reasonable thing he could think of - he spit in the man's face.

 

"Stop calling me that. Let me the fuck go you stupid prick." The boy thrashed in his chains with such force the man took a step back, shocked by the young man’s persistence and strength. "Oh, big mistake little one. You’re going to be a fun one to break."

 

_And with a crack of a whip the young boy’s screams filled the room._


	2. Sweet Misery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like the new chapter! Sorry it took so long.
> 
> Warnings: Torture, abuse :/

 

“Master, this Slave is sorry. He won’t do it again,” the boy whined, nuzzling his head into his masters leg.

 

Deceiving, the man ran his fingers through the boys curls creating a sense of comfort for the young man. The boy knew better than to trust his master, for every action he performed, in the long run, would lead to a painful experience for him. His master was cunning man and a mastered the art of manipulation.

 

 _And this slave was his masterpiece_.

 

"I’m sure it won’t Slave, but punishment must be dealt for your carelessness."

 

Harry cringed, shuffling back into the wall, hoping it would swallow him whole and take him anywhere other then here. He hadn’t even done anything wrong. He didn’t mean to spill his water all over Masters Persian rug. He apologized and even gave Master a blowjob in hopes of escaping punishment. He knew his chances were slim, but he had to try. Nothing worked though and he prayed his punishment would be swift and over fast.

 

"Come on pet, bend over the desk."

 

Harry cringed at the nickname, but dared not to express his dislike of it. The only names he was called from the time he was brought here, around a year ago, were along the lines of pet and worthless slut. The privilege of the use of personal pronouns were taken away from him the second he entered this hell. He was meant to forget about his past life. He was not Harry anymore; he was slave. Harry was washed away, like the blood that slipped through his pale skin.

 

Harry quickly made his way to the desk, not wanting to delay, but rather hurry and get his punishment over with. He had learned over his time that Master did not like things done slowly. There was no avoiding him and be made that clear to Harry the first (and only time) he tried to escape.

 

Harry blend over the desk and let his arms dangle over the front of it, his head slumped to he right. He felt his Master’s hand run down the curve of his spine and down to his butt, where he slowly slipped his thumb into Harry’s hole. Harry tensed, sucking in a sharp breathe. He never got pleasure during punishments. That kind of was against the point of punishing someone.

 

"That Persian rug you spilt water all over is worth over 10,000 euros. I don’t tolerate careless. Especially from my favorite slave. Harry couldn’t help but cringe knowing Master had other boys and girls locked up.

 

"This is an Electrostim, pet." Master held up a long toy near Harry’s face, waving it slowing in front of him. The toy had a long, thin red base that pointed into a triangle with a black handle at the bottom. Harry eyed it suspiciously, having never seen it during his time here.

 

"This," Master held the point of the toy to Harry’s cheek, "little device will send a shock to any area put it on. Of course, I have to turn it on, but being the generous Master I l decided to give you a warning."

 

Yes, so considerate.

 

"Now, little slave, let’s begin." Harry tried to mentally and physically brace himself for the pain that was amount to consume him. Sometimes his punishments weren’t so bad, but most of the time it would leave him in a foggy haze for days and when he finally came too his thoughts were clouded and he could barely speak.

 

Harry tried so hard not to scream, he really did, but the intensity of the shock to his back had him arching off the table. The pain was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Every time Master would shock him his vision would go white. His Master’s assault went from his back to his face, to his legs.

 

At some point in the punishment Harry couldn’t scream anymore. His voice had gone out on him, but his body continued to convulse as Master turned up the volts on the toy.

 

He finally thought he felt his Master stop. He couldn’t tell, however, his body was on fire and it felt as if every part of his body was still sending little wisps of electricity around him. He could faintly heard his Master say something to him, but he couldn’t tell, his ears blown out from his own screaming.

 

His second of relief was cut short as blinding pain shot though him. His Master has shoved the toy inside his hole and had left it there, still on. His legs and hands began to shake so furiously he thought the speed would send him off the desk and straight only the floor.

 

-

 

He couldn’t be sure how long the toy had been inside him. In fact, he didn’t even realize his whole body was shaking rapidly now as if he had walked onto a bed of ice and rolled on it naked. His mind formed its own protective barrier and shut Harry off from the world.

 

Harry didn’t even feel a thing when Master pulled the toy out. He didn’t feel a thing when Master cradled his shaking body in his arms and set him down in the bathtub. He didn’t feel a thing as Master bathed him and ran his hands through the young boys.

 

He didn’t feel anything as Master whisper a soft “I love you. Such a good little boy,” into his ear.

 

-

 

Harry stayed like that for 5 days, longer than he had ever before. He would fall asleep and wake up with the same far away look in his eyes. Master made sure to make servants bring up water and hot soup from the kitchen. They would feed Harry and make sure his red skin was lathered in special cremes.

 

On the 6 day Harry finally came to. Master had seen it in the boys eyes. The boy was close to coming back and Master made sure to hold the boy until he knew the boy was coherent enough to see what Master was doing for the boy. He was a hard Master with a small soft spot for Harry only. If it were any other slave in the house then he would have punished them until they past out and left them there, instructing the trainers to continue their training as soon as they woke. Harry was his priced possession, his greatest accomplishment, but Harry would never realize that and Master hoped to keep it that way.

 

-

 

When Harry finally came to he was lying on his dog bed rested next to his Master’s extravagant canopy one. His skin was on fire and he could feel his hands shake. He squeezed his eyes shut, absorbing the blistering pain in his bum. The pain was so horrible, he began to cry - something he hadn’t done in a while.

 

For so long he was immune to the pain. He tried to not think about the torture he had been through in the past months. Now, it was all catching up to him and his emotions came spilling over in a title wave of

grief. He knew he had nothing left to live for. It had been months since his capture and more likely than not his family had given up on looking for him.

 

_He was tired of trying to keep his sanity and with that he lost it._


End file.
